Hospital Journal. Day 20: "I only have half an hour for lunch..."

On the patio. Young nurse on her cell at a nearby table Thin, dark haired, dark eyed, narrow-faced but with a big, wide smile that doesn’t seem to ever go away and a merry voice. Not eating her salad as she talks but absently turning over the greens with her fork.

“And then he told me he was trying to get Nidia pregnant, and I was like, Wow! Yeah. He just wanted a baby. Then he had the nerve to text me to wish me Happy Birthday. (Listens to her friend who I guess is expressing concern for her feelings.) I’m not sad. I’m not! I’m actually happy for him. Hey! I’ve got to go. I only have half an hour for lunch. Bye! Love ya!” She ends the call. Thumb scrolls her phone. Finds a missed call and rings the number. Another friend. “Hi! Sorry I couldn’t take your call. But, listen. I only have half an hour for lunch, so let me tell you…”

But a noisily chatting group of people takes a table between us and I can’t hear what the nurse has to tell her second friend. But I like imagining it’s a repeat of the news she gave her first friend, delivered in the same merry voice.

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It's interesting how one's loved ones experience one's illness through the lens of the hospital cafeteria. I keep thinking of Vogel's Baltimore Waltz. All that drama, all that medical technology, all those hopes and fears and it is experienced as a dry pastry, a bland sandwich or a watery Coke.